


Journal of an Expendable

by ZeroM3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Diary/Journal, Gay Male Character, Loneliness, Original Character Death(s), Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Rants, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroM3/pseuds/ZeroM3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I somehow got inspired for something really dark and sci fi at the same time so after sitting down and sketching the character, I wrote this. </p>
<p>It's set up as a journal and since I didn't want to struggle with accurate dating for a Star Wars thing that was so short, I just used normal months and days and not years or anything fancy. The title is also a shout out to the Expendable song about troopers and red shirts.</p>
<p>So anyways, there is slight symbolism, intense depression, violence, gore, sensitive material, self hate, rambling, suicide, self harm, loneliness, etc. I honestly don't feel like listing everything and I don't care if it's "politically correct" with all the Star Wars information, I purposefully didn't put any or if I did, it was a small glaze over that doesn't even matter. Just enjoy the sad story of a lonely and broken trooper and his year on the Death Star or don't and go read something else, I don't care.</p>
<p>Songs that are nice to listen to while reading this could be "Send it Out to the Universe" by Samantha James, "Angel" by Within Temptation, "Beautiful" by Eminem, "This Heart of Ice" by Nomy, or "Ghost Assassin" by Maduk ft. Veela</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journal of an Expendable

December 7

It's been a week since I joined the other troopers aboard Lord Vader's prized Death Star. The days seem to run together and my memory has gone hazy of home already. Though to to be completely honest, I have no home to remember. A run down and crumbling shack stands on the outskirts of a poverty stricken town and holds my broken memories. I should have burned it before I left... Regardless, my time aboard this spherical prison will hopefully bloom into something more worthwhile. Until that time comes though I will continue to struggle through this assigned journal and the psychological stress that my new job pushes onto me.

\- TK-493

 

December 21

The days have now become weeks and I wouldn't even be able to remember the day I got here if it weren't for this journal. My insomnia has grown to levels I hadn't ever thought possible and because of this, the thick bruised bags under my dulled eyes have grown to a purple so deep that I constantly look like an abusive victim. The burn scars across the upper half of my face doesn't help the bruising either and I've never been more happy that the trooper uniform includes a mandatory helmet. Lately the other men from the section of my squadron have been getting together for cards and drinks after our group shift but an invitation has not been extended to me yet. I assume it's because I don't speak up much during shift. I think I'll end this here for the night, the throbbing behind my eyes has spread more so I'll need to part before I become nauseous over the page.

\- TK-493

 

January 7

Hello again dear friend of paper and ink. I received a tattoo across the bridge of my nose the other day after my shift ended. I had been drinking heavily but still remember the moment.... It's a simple double bar pattern. It was the first time I've shown my bare face since being on the Death Star. It makes me laugh when I remember the reaction my squadron had when they saw my face.. oh yeah that was also the first night they invited me to drinks... I don't think I'm going to be invited back ha...

\- TK-493

 

January 12

Oh I didn't state this last time we "talked" but the reaction my squadron had was negative and my prediction was correct. I haven't been invited back to drinks and the quiet on shift has grown into an almost visible tension around me. Like a giant bubble is encasing me and is deflecting everyone.... I must be dysfunctional, I can't think of any other reason why people would so actively separate themselves form me. My tattoo has healed most of the way and it's rich black bars look so much darker against my red hair that is looking more and more like burnt blood every day. Maybe it's a sign...

\- TK-493

 

February 14

Tell me it's crazy but I believe in happy endings, that love will show up for me when it's time but as the blur of time crawls at an alarming speed, I am forced to realize more and more how much of a fuck up I am. I don't need much, even a friend would pull me through the darkness that has begun to creep further into my mind. But no such luck. The circles under my eyes have grown to an ashy black with purple bruising in thick nasty rings around my eyes, my permanently flushed face (the burn scars I told you about before) looks like I've got some sort of disease so I am even more careful with not showing my disgusting face to the others. I've never been told I was beautiful or handsome or whatever it is people call each other these days but just once I wish someone could look past that and see the real me, under the helmet and Sith loyalty to the tortured and shattered person who needs to be put back together again. But that's too much to ask for isn't it?

\- TK-493

 

March 5

I noticed it had been awhile since we spoke last so I thought I'd pay a visit. I've discovered something new that helps ease the pain and agony that covers me like a blanket. A week ago I was helping an engineer droid fix a piping issues and one of the metal pipes snapped, causing me to slit the upper part of my bicep... the pain was so surprisingly soothing... I know I cried out initially from the shock of the sudden slice but wow it flooded me with some sort of feeling I couldn't place and still can't. It's like the darkness in my mind bleeds out with every drop I spill. I kept the chunk of metal from that pipe and when I got back to my room, I started a lazy pattern of cuts that ran from the original cut on my bicep to the palm of my trigger hand. Euphoria soared through my heart as though every life giving beat sang out the pleasure of my pain and inner struggle. My moment of bliss was cut short (mind the pun heh)when I wondered if the others would notice the cuts that now ran in a maze down my right arm. But then I remembered who I was, no one...

\- TK-493

 

March 30

Oh sweet stellar moon I've gotten so used to the nightly pain that I've put myself away from you for a few weeks again. I've moved on to both arms now if you're wondering. Sometimes I move onto my legs and torso if I run out of room and the darkness is still pressing against my mind like an oily tentacle that begs to be released in a sea of red. I was almost caught the other day when a trooper from my squadron came to get me early for my shift. Luckily the bedding on our bunks are burgundy otherwise I'm sure the young man would've been shocked by the pools that I had passed out in the night before. Or we he even care that my sheet was plastered to my chest with dried and stale blood? Either way, I think I've made a break through. I need to plan accordingly from now on when my shift is approaching. I don't need anyone to see how I comfort my psyche. Well even though parting is such sweet sorrow (I've discovered a new literature called tragic theater), I must go to finish my nightly self medication.

\- TK-493

 

April 17

....I have sunken lower into the throes of passionate despair. I have fallen for another man and even though he is of my faction, it can't be. His dark personality is so alluring and complements his tall and handsome body. Sorry for the stain on your pure page.... but I had to take a moment and slash the feelings out of me before I went on. It's not that I don't support homosexuality either so don't judge me so quickly. It's just that I know he is taken by another and he hates my guts.... I've seen the way he glares at me when he thinks no one is looking and every time... I have to run to the nearest restroom to bleed out the pain. I guess I'll let you go for now... oh how I wish you could respond to my ramblings but then I think that you'd tell me never to write you again so I'm glad we can have this one sided exchange.

\- TK-493

 

May 30

I've gotten sloppy my dear journal. That man I told you that I love? He approached me a while back and told me how much I disgust him and that I'm the hurting kind with testing his patience (what does that even mean?) and then proceeded to verbal abuse me until he was out of breath and so furious that he bashed my helmet covered head into the metal of an elevator door. The wall dented from the force and I'm sure if I wasn't wearing my helmet than I would've been much worse off than a minor concussion. I was dizzy and upset when I left the exchange and only had enough will power to stumble into the elevator and remove enough armor to cut myself until I couldn't see straight. The memory is slightly fogged after that though. I know no one saw me practically crawl my way to my quarters but I left the elevator in a mess. I think that was 3 weeks ago. A counselor was hired a couple days after that since the clean-up staff didn't find a body. I've heard some other troopers joke about the "emo whipped bitch" in the cafeteria. If they knew it was me, I'm sure the jokes would turn harsher and they'd kill me themselves. I'm almost tempted to tell them for that reason alone. Maybe I will...

\- TK-493

 

June 13

The counselor is still here and talks to us in our squadrons in group therapy sessions. I ignore her for the most part except the other day she went in depth to a few ways people off themselves. It started to put small ideas in me for a later date if it needs to come to that. Also still not sure if anyone even writes in these journals like I do, I assumed they'd be collected and read through to check if any of else actually listened but it seems that isn't the case so I cna start going into depth with how far the darkness has spread. But I will save that for another time. I have grown hazy from releasing my pain earlier and I believe I may get some actual sleep tonight.

\- TK-493

 

July 2

So as I said, let's continue from where we left off. The mechanical way of cutting myself has started to lose it's touch. The dark swirly tentacles slip their oily appendages across my mind, raping the rest of the light that was taking up residence in my dreams. Every night I awake in a cold sweat and rush to the bathroom to let go of my nausea before I crawl back to bed. I recently got introduced to tobacco as well and took up smoking so the other day when I went to light up after a nightmare and trip to the porcelain, I fumbled with the laser lighter and singed my wrist. The smell of the burnt flesh was so horrible that I almost lost what little stomach I still had but when the sick feeling passed and I was left with the throbbing and numbing pain in the sizzling white flesh, I found that the darkness had slipped. Since then, I've cut back on the blood letting to only my left arm while I burn the underside of my forearm on the right. This morning I pressed the laser lighter to my right palm until I saw blinding white spots in the back of my eyes, the light drove away the darkness for the rest of the day. It's starting to get a oh so sweet routine of it's own now with the combined blood letting and burning.

\- TK-493

 

August 31

I realize it's been at least a month or so since we've last spoken again and I apologize for the delay. I've kept up with the palm burning every morning so that when the darkness wraps itself around my mind during the day I can just squeeze the butt of my gun and the pain shoots white spots into my field of vision that wards away the darkness. I learned the name of that trooper I fell in love with. Duke. I often have nightmares that settle around him bashing my unprotected head into the elevator until I stop twitching. Other times I wake in a struggle for water when I dream of Lord Vader force choking me until my windpipe snaps like an over stretched rubberband. I'm sorry for the angst filled turn this journal has taken but it's necessary to carry on without burdening others with myself. I need to do something about how I am effecting others, I don't want to be a bother to them with my worthlessness.

\- TK-493

 

September 20

I looked in the mirror earlier when my shift was over... I've lost so much weight since the nightmares started. I can see every rib on what used to be a well muscled abdomen and my joints look knobby and awkward with how thin my limbs have gotten. I'm honestly surprised I can still walk around with my armor and not just collapse. Oh that counselor finally left since no one came forward about the elevator incident and it's been written up as a bloody assault mishap or whatever. I could care less since it helps me cover for a little longer while I plan something that has seeded itself in my head and spread into a bright sapling.I know once it blooms that the darkness will be gone.

\- TK-493

 

October 23

I've heard that a party for some pagan holiday is being held in a week or so and no I will not be attending, I need the time to finish my plan, the sapling has turned into a twisting and thorned bush that pricks into the darkness, already starting to battle it's thick oily limbs. I have a feeling that the bush will bloom before my plan can actually be implemented especially with the stress that is spreading through the crew because of some teenager or something. I don't know exactly, I've been spacing out in the meetings to think more on my plan and when I get back to my quarters, I water the bush with every slit and burn in my marred flesh that will never be the smooth paleness it once was. I guess it truly shows how disgusting I am to everyone. By the way dear journal, Duke got married last week.... I wasn't invited and even I had been, I would've been too intimidated by his presence to show my face. I heard through the grapevine that his wife is beautiful though, with cinnamon ginger hair and honey chestnut eyes.... when I look in the mirror, I see myself as her. My burnt blood coloured hair and dull topaz eyes stare out from sunken in and yet bruisily swollen eyes that are laid against sickly pale skin that looks like it should be on a ghost and not of the living. I almost cry when I think of myself in white ceremonial robes next to Duke but stop myself by smashing my face forehead first into my bathroom mirror. I haven't cried since I was eight years old and I'm not about to start when I'm so close to the completion of my plan. This seems to be one of my longest entries and with the aching sensation in my nose I believe it is time to end our conversation (if you can call it that) and call it a night. 

\- TK-493 

 

November 4 

I broke my nose and had to rebreak it the next morning to set it back into place correctly though a noticeable bump is forming along the top line of my tattoo. So the last few days have been uneventful and aiding to the peace and quiet I need to wrap up any loose ends in my plan. I have found that if I cut first and then burn the wounds, they are sauterized in a way that seals up the skin while at the same time loosening up the darkness that has gotten smaller and smaller each day the thorned bush grows. It has reached into the furthest corner of my mind and wrapped it's thick vines with the oily tentacles of darkness until the are braided together. The buds on the main part of the bush have grown fat with their ripening. Next time will be the last journal. 

\- TK-493 

 

December 7 

It started on this day and it will end on the same. I narrowly escaped from my squadron and have locked myself in my quarters. I was wanted to wait just a little longer but the yearly physicals are today and I can't let the doctors see what my body has become, if it can even be called that anymore. It has become a physical tomb to my spirirt and wracked with what I had thought to be inescapable darkness until fruition struck the thorned bush and a blossoming of deep red and topaz roses exploded inside my skull and filled me to the brim. The beautiful flowers poured out of front of my throat and I watched them flow down my torso and legs while I sat on my bunk, hunched over and fascinated in the slow falling roses. A sea of petals spread out before me in a rush that stole my breath away and cause the darkness to finally fulyl drain out with the shining beauty. It what seemed like hours but more like seconds, the fall of roses and petals quickened and covered the floor and bedding around me within five feet of me. A thudding that had started a moment ago suddenly burst my ear drums at the sound of scraping metal and friend circuits. I looked up at the remains of my door and saw what appeared to be troopers, my squadron of troopers, staring at me in mixed horror and shock at least that's what it appeared to be to me, my vision had grown foggy and I know my writing has probably gotten close to illegible in this journal that I have somehow kept out of the reach of the sea of roses. I could feel myself smile at my fellow troopers that hadn't allowed me to get close to them and I know before I fade into the beckoning light, I will give one last salute. I thank you journal for all you have had to endure for me. May your pages be read and used until you are full to bursting since I couldn't do that for you... 

Always and Forever, TK-493

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the journal of my stormtrooper oc. Feel free to let me know what you thought or ask any questions.


End file.
